


Terminal Velocity

by trashabellanar



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashabellanar/pseuds/trashabellanar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first Cullen is annoyed that his plane home is delayed by a snowstorm, but then he runs into Dorian, a charming businessman booked on the same flight. As they get to know each other while waiting in the airport terminal (and, briefly, a bathroom stall), Cullen finds that they have more in common than he ever would have guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminal Velocity

**Author's Note:**

> This was written prior to December 2015, hence the now-outdated timestamps. Also the first smut I ever wrote!

_8:42 p.m., Dublin, Ireland. December 14th, 2015._

Cullen leans back in his stiff seat and groans so loudly that he barely hears the end of the announcement on the airport PA. An hour and a half expected delay. Just perfect.

To make things even better, some random guy decides to plop down in the seat right next to his, despite the terminal being half-empty. He looks back and forth between his watch and the digital clock flashing on the wall. “Did I miss something? Why aren’t we boarding? I’ve been hopping around time zones so much lately I can’t keep them straight. Not that I’m too good at ‘keeping straight’ in general.” He laughs aloud at his own joke, then waits patiently for Cullen to recover from this introduction and respond.

“Uh. The plane’s been delayed. They just announced it. At least an hour and a half.”

“Fu-uh- _uk_ ,” the stranger sighs exaggeratedly. “I just don’t get how this happens. It’s not like planes get stuck in traffic, is it?”

Cullen shrugs. “I mean, it’s the middle of winter. The weather’s kind of shit.”

“Hmph. Well, _some_  of us have places to be.”

“I, uh, I think we all have places to be. That’s why we’re waiting for an airplane.”

He laughs again. “You know, you’re quite funny, you sad grumpy man. I’m Dorian Pavus. Pleased to meet you.”

Cullen shakes his proffered hand. “Cullen Rutherford.”

* * *

_9:12 p.m._

Dorian settles back down in his seat with two cardboard cups and a bag from Starbucks. “Banana nut or cranberry orange?” he asks, setting the cups down and puling two muffins out of the bag.

“What? Oh, you didn’t need to get me anything.”

“I asked you to watch my stuff and my stuff’s still all here. So, you get a muffin.”

Cullen laughs and takes the cranberry orange one. Grinning, Dorian says, “Good, I prefer banana nut anyway.”

“We _are_  still talking about muffins, right?” Cullen asks with a cocked eyebrow.

Dorian seems taken aback by, but not at all opposed to, the flirtatious remark. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you _only_  like cranberry orange, or are you open to other options as well?”

Cullen blushes and starts to regret his comment. Not that this man isn’t incredibly handsome and oddly charming in a roguish kind of way, but because if there’s one thing Cullen Stanton Rutherford most definitely does not do, it’s flirt with random men in airport terminals. “We’ll see,” he mutters when he realizes that Dorian’s still waiting for a response.

* * *

_10:37 p.m._

“I guess we’re going to be here for a while,” Dorian says as the PA announces an anticipated midnight departure. “Damn all this snow. I’m moving to Italy when I retire, I swear. A nice chateau on the Mediterranean.”

“Aren’t chateaus French?” Cullen teases.

“Shut up. I’ll marry a famous French architect, then have him build me my goddam chateau on the Mediterranean, where he’ll feed me grapes and cheese and wine in the warm sun all day.”

Staring out the window at the driving snow, Cullen laughs, “Yeah, that sounds pretty good right about now.”

* * *

_11:10 p.m._

“So, I take it you’re traveling for business,” Cullen says, still holding his Starbucks cup despite having long since finished the hot chocolate it had once held.

“Yes. Well, I’m traveling home after traveling for business, technically. I’ve been in meetings in half the countries on this damn continent over the past couple weeks.”

“That sounds exhausting,” he replies. “I’m wiped out after just spending three days at my sister’s place. Though to be fair, she _does_  have two-year-old triplets. And I think it being around the holidays just automatically makes everything that much more chaotic.”

“Oh, I bet you’re great with kids, though,” Dorian says, then looks away as if he’s overstepped some unspoken boundary. “From what I’ve seen of you, I mean. I don’t know.”

“No, it’s fine. I like to think I’m pretty good with them,” Cullen confesses. “I’ve always liked kids, but I don’t have any of my own, so I always look forward seeing my nieces and nephews. And I think Mia and her husband like having someone else around to look after them for a little while. I haven’t gotten to see them much since they moved here for her work.”

“That sounds nice. I’m an only child, and single to boot, so things can get a bit lonely.” As soon as he says it, Dorian shrugs and crosses his arms. “It’s fine though. I love my work, so I’m not complaining.” 

* * *

_12:01 a.m, _December 15th, 2015.__

“My parents weren’t too surprised when I told them, honestly. They were actually really okay with it, too.” Cullen laughs at the memory. “I just remember my dad turning to my mom and going, ‘see, I told you I saw him checking out his roommate!’ Oh, I was _so_ embarrassed.”

Dorian smiles at him, though it’s tinged with a bit of sadness. “Ooh, uni roommate romance? Sounds like a shitty porno.”

Cullen blushes a deep shade of crimson. “For one, it was Catholic boarding school when I was sixteen. And two, there was most definitely almost no romance, which was probably for the better in the end.”

“‘Most definitely almost?’ That need some explaining, Altar Boy,” Dorian chuckles.

“We, uh, we may have gotten drunk and made out one or two or five times. But it most certainly wasn’t a romance. He ended up dropping out during our last year after getting involved with drugs and gangs and shit.” He grimaces at the memory. “Fuckin’ Samson. Waste of a first crush. Wonder how he’s doing now.”

Dorian tilts his head. “That’s a song. Regina Spektor, ‘Samson.’ Have you heard it? ‘You were my sweetest downfall; I loved you first.’” As soon as he quotes the line, he seems to lose the ability to look Cullen in the eye, becoming quite engrossed in examining his perfectly manicured nails.

Cullen grunts dismissively. “Never heard of it. Sounds nice, though not so much applicable to the Samson I knew.”

* * *

_12:54 a.m._

Cullen has given up all hope at getting out of this damn airport terminal any time soon. Though he has to admit, sitting here with Dorian’s memory foam travel pillow on his lap, with Dorian asleep on it, isn’t such a bad thing. He watches fondly as the man’s curled mustache twitches with each exhale.

Seeing him sleeping quietly on his lap, Cullen realizes that Dorian’s younger than he had originally thought. Maybe even younger than him, though not by too much. 

Cullen’s never done this before— fallen for some mysterious stranger met in a chance encounter. He’s not even sure he believes stuff like this happens outside crappy rom-coms. But the past five hours or so have flown by in Dorian’s company, and the only reason the other man went to sleep was because he’d been so tired from jet lag, not because they’d run out of things to talk about.

He was strange, a little secretive, a little flirtatious, a lot clever and funny and charming, and for some inexplicable reason, just as interested in Cullen as Cullen was in him.

It takes him a solid five minutes to realize he’s brushing his fingers through Dorian’s soft hair.

* * *

_1:43 a.m._

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Cullen gasps as Dorian presses him up against the cold white wall of the far corner stall of the men’s bathroom. Their bags are piled up by the stall door and Cullen can only hope they’ll block the view of the two pairs of feet in one stall.

“It’s two in the morning,” Dorian says. “There’s hardly anyone here. We’ll be fine.”

Cullen grabs Dorian and switches their position, pinning Dorian to the wall and kissing his neck. “I never said I didn’t _want_ to do this,” he growls. His mouth moves to Dorian’s and he kisses him hard, his hands tangled into the man’s dark hair. Dorian responds by jumping up and wrapping his legs around Cullen’s waist, using his position against the wall to grind his hips forward against Cullen, who stifles a moan by biting as gently as he can on Dorian’s shoulder.

Dorian grinds against him a little longer, just until he can feel that Cullen’s fully hard in his jeans. He unwraps his legs from the taller man’s waist and drops to his knees, fumbling at the buckle of his belt.

“May I?” he asks, pausing as he holds on end of Cullen’s undone belt in his hand.

“Oh fuck yes,” Cullen mutters as Dorian eagerly undoes his zipper and tugs down his pants and underwear.

“Hot damn, Altar Boy,” Dorian chuckles as he ever-so-gently runs his knuckles up the underside of Cullen’s cock, angling it towards his mouth.

Cullen’s retort is lost before it’s spoken as Dorian takes as much of Cullen as he can fit into his mouth. He keeps his eyes locked on Cullen’s as he bobs his head couple times before removing his mouth with a _pop_  and licking up the whole length.

With his heart pounding and his hips heating, Cullen knows that he’s not going to last nearly as long as he’d like with Dorian’s mouth on him. He tries to focus on the moment, enjoy it while it’s happening, and not think about how this is a one-time hookup in a bathroom of an airport in a country where neither of them even lives.

Dorian repositions himself and slides Cullen’s cock deeper into his mouth, letting out little gasps and moans every time he comes up for a breath. Cullen’s legs tremble and he tangles his fingers into Dorian’s hair for support as his head falls back and his mouth falls open. “Dorian,” he manages to mutter. “Dorian, I’m gonna—”

“Good,” Dorian says before wrapping his lips around Cullen’s cock again, sucking enthusiastically even as Cullen lets out a strangled moan comes hard and warm into his mouth. He keeps his mouth on him until Cullen’s completely spent, shaking and trembling against the bathroom wall.

Dorian stands and wipes his lips on the back of his hand. Cullen’s breathless for a few more moments, then he grabs Dorian by the back of his neck and kisses him hard, his tongue slipping past Dorian’s lips to taste his own bitterness there.

Dorian reaches down to re-zip his jeans. “I suppose we should make sure we haven’t missed our flight.”

Cullen shrugs with a mischievous grin on his lips. “Yeah, then we’d have to get a hotel room. Spend a whole night together. The horror.”

Dorian kisses him one last time before shouldering his duffel bag, tossing Cullen’s backpack to him. “Oh, don’t even say that. The things we could do if I knew I didn’t have to sit on a plane for hours afterwards…”

* * *

_5:15 p.m., December 22th, 2015. London, England._

Cullen almost forgets to grab his keys on the way out of his apartment. His tie’s a bit too tight, his blazer has frayed sleeves, and his curls just aren’t cooperating this evening, but those are the last things on his mind as he rushes downstairs. 

Dorian beams as soon as he sees him. “That coat looks nice on you. It’s a good color. You should try a more daring look next time, though. Maybe with fur trim or something.”

Cullen laughs and throws an arm around his date’s shoulder. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I’ve never been to a Christmas party where tacky sweaters weren’t allowed. Besides, aren’t all your co-workers going to start asking how we met?”

Dorian kisses his cheek. “Probably. I’ll just tell them we fucked in a bathroom stall in Dublin.”

He cackles at Cullen’s vehement protests. “I’m kidding. We met while we both were traveling. That’s all they need to know.”

They walk out into the snow and Cullen can only think about how thankful he his for the awful weather this time of year.


End file.
